Bending Mantras: To Suit Your Desires
by Woolworths Addendum
Summary: Part 1 of a series. Rick Grimes and the rest of his group have been killed by a second walker attack just 49 days since the first one. Glenn is devastated from all that he's lost, so he wanders westward alone. Enid follows after him. Glennid fic. Probably the first one. Seriously, Glenn x Enid. Please, be careful. Third person, Enid POV. Plot-caused OOC. AU, as always.
1. Besides the Always Ending

**Author's Note: Each chapter will open and close with a series of silly Enid-centric demotivational or animated gifs I'm working on. I'm calling the series, "Assertive Enid."**

 **Here be the first.**

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— **Chapter 1: Besides the Always Ending**

She was always pulling Glenn aside to steal a few sloppy kisses when she thought nobody was looking, but of course Enid noticed. Maggie pretended to be so reserved when out in public. Away from the eyes of the community, however, she made damn certain that she wore the pants to bed in that relationship. In fact, Enid had witnessed this first-hand. Rather, heard it, and let her mind fill in the gaps.

After Alexandria had been won back from that walker herd, Enid had been invited by Maggie to live in the spare downstairs room in their designated house. Enid was adamant, at first, but Maggie Greene wasn't really the type of person one could just say no to. Just in the first week alone, Enid could see what Glenn had meant when he told her that the only reason he brought Enid back to Alexandria was because he knew that Maggie wouldn't have wanted him to leave the kid to fend for herself. "We're not friends," Enid remembered him say, still so clearly. "I'm doing this for Maggie." Maggie, and their unborn child.

Speaking of the couple, their married life . . . wasn't exactly a soft one. No matter how quiet and careful they tried to remain upstairs out of courtesy for their newest addition to the family, Enid could hear the squeaks of the bed legs and the pounding of the headboard against the wall increasing its tempo at a hilarious rate in the silence of a rural night. The next day, Glenn would just have the same blasé, yet gentle, face he always had, whereas Maggie would strut about with that smug smile of hers indicating she'd gotten exactly what she wanted the night before. Enid noticed that it was only after those nights when Maggie wouldn't be separating herself and Glenn into some secluded corner to express her unruly affections without care; at least not for a little while. Glenn would be left uncorrupted for maybe a day or two, up until the itch would strike his raunchy wife yet again.

If a hunger like Maggie's could get satiated, it only served to further Enid's young curiosity about what kind of husband she had in her possession. Enid hadn't ever seen Glenn at full mast before, though not for lack of trying. Still, she'd stolen secretive peeks here and there as he'd step in and out of the shower. She found herself impressed. Her suffocating ex-boyfriend, the late Ron Anderson, may have been quite longer at rest, but Glenn's thickness in the same state was something Enid wouldn't mind wrapping her hands around. Being one of the four fittest men out of all the other sticks or blobs in Alexandria only added to the eye candy factor. Still, she had that thing about hating his guts. And his own opinion of her was even lower; never mind how spot-on it may or may not have actually been.

Sure, he continued to act like a father to her. Many times it felt genuine. A fair few moments were even kind of sweet. Somewhere in this generosity and sympathy, though, was what seemed like simple obligation. Maybe it wasn't enough to make it the sole and only truth, but it was there, nonetheless. A part of Enid felt that Glenn's casual caring of her was mostly at the insistence of his wife from behind the scenes.

Maggie made every push to be like her mother, and Enid was okay with it. In fact, the idea grew pretty quickly on the girl. With Glenn, however, it wasn't as strong. Or maybe, just not as pushy. They didn't talk much, and that didn't really bother her. Every sign of trouble, though, it _was_ Glenn who was amongst the first, if not _the_ first, to come running. Walker, stranger, collapsed piece of construction. He was there, every time, looking for her even if she hadn't been involved. Guess he really did worry deep down through all of that mutual hate they shared, but didn't really feel like he had to show it all the time. He did when it mattered, though. If anything, he reminded her a bit of how her own dad used to act. That suited her just fine. But there was just one problem.

No matter how hard Enid tried to, and no matter how hard Glenn worked at it, she just couldn't accept him as a father figure. That actually kind of pissed her off. Despite the existence of hate, Glenn had actually grown on her; even more than before that walker herd, though she refused to share that aloud. She wanted to like him, and she did, but something was stopping her from accepting him as her adoptive dad. Rather, something was stopping her from liking him, if that even made sense. Something she couldn't quite understand through what she felt like was just a lack of experience with such. The first pieces of the puzzle required to explain just exactly what these feelings were eventually came on one windy rest.

Twenty-plus days living under the Rhee family roof, and it was looking to be a night like any other. The moon was beginning to set when she heard the telltale scrapes of the legs of the bed upstairs indicating an energetic, if overanxious, shift of movement. That meant it was a bit after midnight. That meant it was a time when they thought Enid was fast asleep. Without fail, the girl heard the creaking. Slow, at first, but picking up speed. The pounding of the headboard against the wall grew louder and louder. It was normally around times like these that she'd roll her eyes, laugh, and then try to count the sheep faster before finally knocking out. They'd be at it till dawn, after all.

This wasn't one of those times. There was something new to the norm. It wasn't just Maggie's forceful grunts that she heard as per usual. Even through the heavy winds outside, she heard a man's voice from upstairs, too. Unmistakable, yet, at the same time, unfamiliar. It was Glenn, no doubt. But he was groaning. He was moaning, whining, and maybe even whimpering. He was getting happy, and was loving every second of it. He was getting it good, and he wanted more badly, and it was simply because of Maggie.

There was now a different sentiment entirely in the still-blossoming teenager. Where once was the vibrations of restrained tittering, there was a knot in her stomach. Where once was the rise and fall of steadying breaths to better bait over the wandering slumber, there was an inferno in her chest. Where once was the smile at the ridiculousness of it all, there was a grimace of exasperation at the theft of what she'd never owned. It was an unfamiliar feeling to Enid. She'd been an only child. She had always gotten what she'd wanted growing up. Even after surviving out in the world by herself. It was only until moving to Alexandria when things got complicated. Unfamiliar emotions had to be dealt with through learning experiences, and they were usually more error than trial.

Being trapped in a place of freedom for all. Fighting unease in a literal safe-zone. Feeling alone despite always having been alone. Much more anger. Way more tired. Sharing when she didn't want to share. Maybe even what her dictionary lying in the heap of other books in the corner defined as . . . she couldn't remember.

Her senses unwillingly focused on what Enid could only picture was specifically transpiring above her. She felt like she was being cheated out of all her hard-earned supplies. Yet, the contradictory heat of arousal confused her. The girl's hands were down her pajamas before she even understood what was happening. Chaotic, she went, right from the start; an effort to stun all the butterflies in her stomach. Muttering every curse she could think of, and making some up on the way. Breathing harder, and faster. She was blinking back tears, imagining the weight of a forbidden man.

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 **Author's Note: That's right. Glennid. Because fuck it, ship everyone. Please note that Enid will have aged up by the time anything starts between them.**

 **Also-**

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	2. Whichever Existing Redundant

**Author's Note: Should mention that I'm writing this in tandem with an AO3 version.  
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— **Chapter 2: Whichever Existing Redundant**

It was the crack of dawn after Alexandria's fall. The only people who had made it to Rick Grimes' previously planned rendezvous point were herself, Glenn, and over a dozen other citizens who neither she nor Glenn had ever spoken to before aside from maybe something job-related in passing. Some left right away. One said she was going to catch up with her friends who'd decided against coming to the rendezvous point in the first place. The rest fell in line under the new leadership of Father Gabriel Stokes. The cowardly priest had grown some balls in the safe-zone's hour of need. As the stalwart members of Rick Grimes' inner circle sacrificed their lives throughout the night against the largest walker herd ever known, it was he who had actually led the civilians in a fighting formation that took them right over Alexandria's walls.

The priest and his people tried to get her and Glenn to come along with them for the journey towards the Great Lakes up north. Glenn turned on his heel at that and left without saying a word. Nobody had the heart try to stop the young man who'd lost the most out of all of them combined in just hours before. Worst of all, as Glenn had mumbled at one point in response to someone's exclamation of being lucky to be alive, was that his companion's corpses were what preoccupied the dead enough for the survivors to have rallied and fled. He should've joined them till the end, he'd said once below his breath. The only reason Glenn was still breathing, and only injured, was because Enid had come to his rescue. He hadn't even resisted; too numbed and in shock from the world and the surrounding walkers closing in by the sight and the feel of the mutilated corpse in his arms. He'd been too late to save her and their unborn child. As Enid had dragged the traumatized man towards Father Gabriel's retreating line, she could've sworn she'd heard him curse the Alexandrians for having had slowed him down to reach Maggie in time.

They tried to stop Enid, of course, but she claimed to be going with Glenn. With confidence, she stated that he was the closest person she had left in the world to a friend and even a father, so they let her go with minimal opposition. They were convinced she would be safe with the last, remaining member of the late Rick Grimes' now-legendary inner circle. Either that, or they feared getting any closer to said last, remaining member. Convincing Glenn to take her along with him, however, was the real problem. It was actually kind of strange. Not two months before, she was running _away_ from Glenn because she didn't want to go back to that suffocating safe-zone. She'd even pointed a gun at him when he kept refusing to leave.

Enid could have so easily fired that day, and no one would've ever known. Her troubles would've been over, and she would've been a free girl without question once again. But she had refused to pull that trigger, because she didn't want to hurt him. Hell, she had thrown him her second-to-last water bottle for a reason, after all. It was all because Enid had a bit of a thing for him. Plain and simple. When his wife, Maggie, was still in the picture, Enid hadn't dared take a step towards even hinting anything of the sort. So much so, in fact, that Enid's mind seemed to refuse to comprehend the idea that she had been harboring feelings for the man who'd showed her the most kindness without really expecting anything in return. In the weeks leading up to the fall of Alexandria, she'd been given some much-welcomed thinking time. She'd realized how sweet it actually was: how Glenn, of all people, had actually proven he wouldn't give up on her.

He was paternal in many regards. Enid actually wanted to let him in from the start, and then some, but, aside from starting a war with Maggie, what Enid feared the most was learning to truly care for another person again, only to have them taken away without even being given a fighting chance. Then there she was, virtually chasing after him and trying to get him to slow down so they could talk. But he just kept on marching.

They barely even traded a sentence for the first few weeks. Glenn didn't even acknowledge her half of the time. Sure, they traveled side by side during the day, but he wouldn't wait up for her if she slowed down. Enid would've given up and left, if it weren't for the facts that, one, she didn't want to, and two, that he proved his real feelings to her whenever she really needed it.

Her companion's aiming ability with nearly any firearm was literally a life-saver. Enid lost count of how many times a walker's brains met the dirt just before its teeth sunk in deep enough to penetrate through her sleeves. Her aim was nowhere near as good, in the beginning. Glenn could attest to that after an incident where she grazed the side of his stomach with a large-caliber rifle slug. The skin had grown back since then, albeit unevenly, but the scar there remained a constant reminder of the days she'd begged him to assist in improving her skills with a gun. Those had been the tensest days between them, in her eyes, but she missed them terribly. Always so close, always willing to grab a hold of her forearm or ankle to adjust her stance. There were several times when she even pretended being worse than she actually was. The intent was to give her an excuse to coax him into coming right up behind her to lead her arms in his. Slow learner, he often called her. Opportunistic, she would think back, but never say. A few times, she even felt bold enough to just lean into his pseudo-embrace; maintaining the expression of concentration when, in reality, she was relaxing against his chest and relishing in his warmth and scent.

"You need to concentrate," he would tell her solemnly. "Keep what I've taught you in mind. Try getting into position on instinct. You won't get any better if you just keep piggybacking on me."

"Who says I wouldn't enjoy the ride?" That had only ever been uttered by her once out of all of Glenn's usual chiding.

It was entirely by accident. Enid had no idea what had possessed her to voice the thought out loud like that. It had just flowed out like butter of its own accord, leaving them both speechless and petrified. They refused to speak of it again. The remainder of her firearms training was completed in earnest.

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	3. Harkened Heights

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— **Chapter 3: Harkened Heights**

They spent their days marching westward, hugging the coast more often than not. This had been a mutual decision between them both. Glenn was born and grew up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Enid was a native of Virginian suburbia. Both of them were very familiar with the harshness of winter, and wanted to avoid it as much as they could by keeping as far south as they could tolerate. Although snow was historically rare in the Southern United States — or Dixie, as it was called by some of the more yokel of the locals — the outbreak, and subsequent collapse of civilization, started to make the annual chills across the country's humid regions ever more noticeable; all within just a year and a half since patient zero bit patient one.

The change was actually quite drastic in the northern areas of Dixie's states. It was said amongst wanderers to have been brought upon by all of the post-apocalyptic filth filling up the atmosphere. There weren't any more scientists on TV, let alone TV, who could confirm it. No matter the truth, the further south they traveled, the less freezing it became. The fact that a sense of direction was usually maintained by keeping the Gulf to their left was also benefitting. Nevertheless, keeping parallel of the coastline did expose its fair share of tradeoffs.

One was the fact that a particularly brutal and unexpected hurricane sent them scrambling far inland for what had to be months. They lost nearly all of their gear and supplies in the process, forcing them to fight their way — practically barehanded — through walker after cannibal after bandit during that entire ordeal. Starvation so very nearly took them at many points, and a freak cold snap which caught them wholly unprepared led them to agree that they would never wander northward again.

A second tradeoff was the loss of time. Without very obvious winters to count, the concept of time had become so much of a chore on top of everything else they already had to worry about that neither of them bothered to keep track of the days anymore. As the weeks, months, or possibly even years dragged on, however, Enid found herself unable to leave his side. Where Glenn went, Enid often followed. Funnily enough, with the slightly more chirpy inclinations she'd been developing lately — probably in response to his seemingly perpetual disconsolate mentality — Enid would, by and large, take up the lead. She'd steer him around with adventure in mind, exploring what wonders lay about for discovery. An abandoned farmhouse? A theme park in tatters? The museum displaying the bodies of the dead, patrolled by the dead of the walking variety? Why not, if they usually returned sans their hands empty, anyway. Even during the times when Glenn would seep into another one of his episodic yet predictable moods, she wouldn't be too far. An opportunity would present itself as it always did, and she'd seize it to close their divide and spend time doing nothing until the mood passed.

It was normal for Glenn to resist these endeavors. It was expected for Enid to defy his wishes. In the end, she would get him to accept her. They'd hang out together no matter who they happened to be with at the time.

This naturally began to evolve into something much grander. Something which Enid accepted as unrequited; if only at first. It was a longing on her part which only revealed itself in hushed whispers amongst the others who sometimes traveled with them. This tended to stem from either questions unable to be answered, or related to some clandestine display of an enviousness in retaliation. Enid fucking hated blondes.

The first moment which could be argued as one of real intimacy came on a blistering hot morning by the shore of a lake called Charles, as indicated by the signs of the city that surrounded it. The city itself was on the small side because of its large patches of cleared and leveled territory. It was spacious and rather empty of walkers due to the more tantalizing hunting grounds in the form of neighboring Lafayette. Said city in question was over 70 miles back eastward. It was far more urbanized than the one they were in, with its buildings taller and built together more densely. From a distance, they had seen that Lafayette's streets were choked with various refuse, abandoned cars, improvised walls that had long-since been breached, and obvious masses of both the dead and walking dead. Their group had smartly given the area a wide berth.

Glenn was charged with desalinizing collections of the local lake's water to make it drinkable by boiling pots with upside down lids to collect steam and condensation that dripped down into glasses that had been carefully placed into the middle of each pot. It was an ingenious method that he'd learned as a Boy Scout back in his youth. Enid had learned quickly just by watching him.

The air was acrid and sticky no matter where one sought shelter this far south, but shade would be shade, nonetheless. The process of boiling enough water by campfires for thirty canteens and skins would take hours, anyway. Glenn was separated from the others, seated in the shadow of a scaled-down helicopter sculpture. The accompanying plaque which Enid read identified the sculpture as a monument to some forgotten war. So like their ritual during dull moments of peace, she joined Glenn without asking or announcing herself human. He scooted over to accommodate her. She scooted closer to avoid the raw sun. He'd keep to the fantasy novel in his hands and only glance up periodically to check the desalination process, whereas she'd continue reading her comic book. In silence, she sat with him, with one leg atop his. There was no cuddling. Just kindred relaxation. Positions like these were far from out of the ordinary. The others had grown indifferent to the kindly regards shared between their group's two newest additions, despite their clear differences in both age and ancestry.

Food had been scarce lately. What few items they'd been able to scavenge was carefully regulated by the leader of the group. He was an old chauvinist at heart, though more positively than negatively, who believed that women and children deserved twice the rations. The small bag of potato chips which Enid had been granted was nursed at a minute a bite. Against the wishes of both Glenn and their leader, she'd hand him a piece for each she herself took. It was her ration, anyway. She could do whatever she wanted with it. This went on until each batch of water was ready. She would assist him in filling their community jug without being asked to.

When enough water had been filled, and each group member had swung by to fill up their canteens at the jug at least once, Glenn and Enid took a drink of their own. It was warm, yet refreshing. Tasteless, but delectably so. The freshest of the fresh, made better by the company she shared it with. Glenn smiled at her briefly and sadly, as he'd done so many times before. Enid returned it with that same grin she found impossible to repress whenever she looked at his face.

The longer they sat there admiring the unmoving lake, the more therapeutic the activity became. Her hand moved without thought and found his atop his thigh. Her fingers wrapped chastely and refused to let go. His hand remained limp for too long and more, until the time came when it finally squeezed back.

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	4. Peruse Once Exchanged in Precision

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 **-** **Chapter 4: Peruse Once Exchanged in Precision**

The day had been short, but Enid still felt exhausted. So much walking. So much scavenging. Enid just wanted to sit down and relax without doing anything. Glenn wasn't with her, for once. He'd been assigned to a shift of guard duty for the next few hours. Their group's leader, Perry the chauvinist, was slowly reorganizing things. Night watches would be rotated equally between the able, and there were even talks of establishing full-time scavenging teams to increase the likelihood of food coming in for the group. Until then, however, she only wanted to enjoy her time at rest.

They were temporarily camping in the ruins of some rural Louisiana village. Enid was sitting in front of one of several campfires with three other people. They were strangers to her, who would be replaced by other strangers whenever they got up and left for duty or boredom. Their group had been growing quite rapidly lately. She could barely remember each of the new people's faces now; let alone their names. Infighting and crime throughout the local settlements were displacing hundreds, or so the saying went amongst the travelers they'd encounter on the road. It showed on the faces of the new people, at least, who brought stories Enid couldn't help but overhear on evenings like this one. They told of prejudices and politics tearing whole communities apart, and of organized gangs of outlaws raiding these places of refuge for medicine and bullets, and even warring with one another whenever they crossed paths.

Things were changing. Early in the outbreak, the walkers were the only physical enemy to worry about. It was simply because they were terrifying. They were new and unnatural and overwhelming. They forced people to work together who probably would've never done so otherwise. These days, the walkers weren't so scary anymore. They were still unstoppable in the long run, but people knew how to deal with them now. Certain things from the world before were able to seep back into people's everyday lives. Most were good, like laws to maintain order amongst those who would agree to follow, basic plumbing in larger settlements which refused entry to huge groups like theirs, and even trading and minor commerce were making a comeback.

Some things which made a comeback from the world before were also bad. Very bad. Crime returned with a vengeance. Murdering people for their supplies and gear happened more regularly now than before, and strategic gangs like the Wolves were said to be becoming commonplace. Skirmishes against these scum had simply become the norm, and it was always the "troops" like Enid and Glenn who were expected to fight them back. Most people in their group tended to run off screaming towards some faraway hole, and then only returned when the all-clear signal was given.

That wasn't even the last of it. Stealing went unpunished and unpursued. Blood feuds and torture took the place of trial by courts. People were drawing walker herds against one another out of nothing but petty vengeance, or spite, or even less. Their nomadic community were essentially refugees trying to escape it all. To find a safe place which would accept them, or establish their own home, if nobody would.

Enid stared at the crackling flames for a long time, lost in her thoughts. Only when she sat up straighter for a second to stretch out her back did she notice that a younger boy seated across the campfire was watching her. He smiled at her sweetly and naively, like his love switch had barely been flicked on for the first time in his life, and he was now looking for the soulmate of his dreams to make the apocalypse a little less despairing. Enid just scowled. The boy gasped and diverted his gaze for the rest of his time seated there.

Enid shook her head and returned to her thoughts. At this point, she'd dated the rainbow. Some were mere flings. Some came close, but lacked the companionship, ideals, and wisdom she craved. Some were big, some were bigger, and others were not so big. None could fill the emptiness which had been gnawing at her. She'd stopped dating altogether a few days prior.

Her last interest was gorgeous, but unbearably annoying. Absentmindedly whistling in ways which mimicked sounds he heard. Always bragging about possessing some untold infinity of both strength and fearlessness, then coming short of proving it whenever the opportunity arose. And his penchant for having to say his entire fucking name, every fucking time. "Terrence Jefferson Bradford," this. "Terrence Jefferson Bradford," that. Then she caught him with two other women at the same time. And then Perry put Enid on scavenging duty because she had to be responsible for finding the antibiotics which would clear up the infections of the gashes she'd given them.

Suffice it to say, Enid had given up on the idea that she'd find romance with others. She never actually wanted to start in the first place, but there wasn't really a choice in the matter. It had been at the behest of Glenn, of all people. She'd often wondered why, until some insight was offered to her through the words of an elderly gentleman who claimed to have seen it all through over forty years of practicing psychiatry.

She forgot how the conversation even started. Something about the 90-plus-year old, Charlie, making a suggestive comment about her and the "Chinese" guy. He was a sweet man who meant well, but his indifferent usage of all things offensive revealed that he definitely grew up in a different era in America's history. Enid felt like arguing with him at many points, but didn't because she found his friendly, yet so blatantly casual, bigotry kind of funny. She eventually told him about some of the more memorable experiences she'd shared with Glenn. Especially of how, no matter what she did, he remained distant intimately. Then he mentioned something about Glenn making her see other people because he was afraid for himself, but thinking of her.

The ancient man's words made sense. Glenn fully knew what was going on inside Enid's head, no matter how much he played coy. He had encouraged her, without explanation, to see other people as an attempt to put an end to this crush of hers. It was a standard solution to feelings of incest, according to the old man. Specifically, for daughters and sons who felt an affection towards their parents that was well beyond the innocence of a child, and more into the realms of a hormone-driven teenager and even later. Because these children looked up to their favored or only parent and spent the most time with them, this unrequited attraction developed naturally. It was the duty of the targeted parent to push their afflicted into interacting more with their own peers. These crushes would then fade by themselves over time. But, in Enid's case, it was different. She was as much of an adult as anybody could grow into post-apocalypse. And this was far from unrequited. He felt something back. Enid was sure of it.

Stated by Charlie himself as being the standard protocol of professional psychiatrists, he refrained from giving her any advice. He only explained to her the reason for why Glenn had made her date boys more her own age; to shed light on what was once a glut of confusion. Trouble was, Glenn's strategy didn't work. However, Charlie's wisdom did have an unintended side effect. Namely, Enid now felt emboldened. If Glenn knew, and was worried of developing deeper feelings for Enid, then she had a chance.

During the next shift in sentry duty, she persuaded one of the guards to let her take her place. It proved easy enough. The rules in their group weren't so strict that either of them would get in trouble, and the woman whom Enid offered to relieve of duty was more than willing to just go back to sleep. So, Enid sought Glenn at his post on the rooftop of a nearby barbershop. Strangely, he didn't react when she sat next to him at the edge. It was almost as if he were expecting her. Enid was supposed to tell him to head back to his bedroll, but no words came out. They actually ended up sitting there, keeping one another company in amiable silence, for the next half hour, or so.

She initiated conversation eventually. Casual, and without detail. Enid made a point to capture his gaze as much as she could, and it turned out to be effective.

It didn't play out like it did in the movies. There wasn't a shared moment of epiphany, when both read the intent in the other's eyes. They didn't slowly move their faces together as the background noise got quiet only for music to swell when the kiss was deepened.

The way it happened was actually quite anticlimactic. For some reason, she saw something dumb as her opening. She shifted herself until their bodies were touching. The arm that wrapped around his waist pulled him even closer, or at least tried to. Glenn went stiff, and refused to move. In answer to this, Enid blinked and moved in for the kiss. It wasn't returned. Didn't matter how much she coaxed for more than that to happen. Running her hands over his chest. Cupping his cheek like they did in the magazines. Even trying and failing to probe open his mouth with her tongue. All Glenn did was sit there. When she parted the one-sided kiss, she noticed his eyes were already open. If anything, he had probably been staring at her the entire time, wondering what the hell she thought she was doing.

Enid expected him to yell. Curse up a storm. Stomp off angrily. Perhaps say nothing at all, and just walk away. Maybe even hit her for pushing something so intimate on him without his consent. What Glenn did next was something she didn't expect.

He stood up calmly. He looked away calmly. He turned back to her calmly. He grunted. "You need to work on your kisses." There was no emotion on his face, or in his voice. "If you were expecting to wow me, you fell short. And I don't know at what point you thought you saw your opening, but I never gave you one." _Then_ he walked away.

Now, Enid wasn't exactly a veteran in the craft, and she knew this. She didn't deny it, either, especially since a global apocalypse would tend to ruin any blossoming teenager's chances for refining their skills in the arts of passion, body language, and courtship — let alone performance in the bedroom. Didn't matter how many boys she could ever be with in this world. Neither she, nor them, really knew what they were doing, anyway. This made her miss the simpler ways of simpler days. Middle school seemed to be decades ago now. Enid missed those times, when she would hang out with her friends, assessing the lameness of last summer's blockbuster or losing the latest argument over the superiority of an iPhone versus an Android. She missed the days when she'd stay up in her room for hours trying to practice her guitar as quietly as she could, telling herself that it wasn't exactly procrastination from algebra homework if it was something productive. She missed the times when she'd walk the halls of her school or the mall, and smile right back at the hot boys who noticed her. She missed YouTube, and the Sims 3, and broadband access to unlimited high-definition porn.

Nowadays, survival always came first. Everything else was just a distraction. But this was one distraction that she needed. One that she craved. So much so, that it had merely taken her chance meeting with Glenn after he'd emerged from beneath that dumpster so long ago for her to question and twist around her own philosophy on living.

Her relationship with Glenn was an odd one. He wanted so much to be like a father to her, no doubt brought upon by the tragic loss of his kid who never even got the chance to see its first light of day, whereas she wanted so much more from him. As she watched him descend the rooftop ladder and return to the clearing of their camp in the village's only real intersection, she couldn't help but note the gloom in his steps.

For far too long, her last, true companion in the world had been a broken man. Enid knew the feeling. But if either of them deserved to mope, she felt it was him. Witnessing your parents die through a car window is one thing. Losing your parents, and your sisters, and the love of your life, and your unborn child, and all the blood-forged friends you'd survived with and fought beside throughout the course of nearly two years is a whole, other thing entirely. She shuddered when her mind skimmed through the stories of what Glenn had told her about the one-eyed demon which called itself the Governor. Glenn had been through the deepest circles of hell already, and she hadn't been there to be with him for any of it.

A part of her felt guilty about this. Enid knew he was vulnerable. Hell, he'd _been_ vulnerable, and probably _would be_ for a very long time. If she continued to pursue Glenn and somehow succeeded, it would be taking advantage of him during the darkest era of his life. But, like he had often called her, Enid could be a major spoiled brat sometimes. She ended up trying one last time once her shift was complete.

After being relieved of her post, she returned to her bedroll, which was only but a few tantalizing steps from Glenn. He was still awake. Staring up at the sky, one arm acting as a pillow behind his head. Enid froze at his peripheral vision, took a deep breath, and then marched with purpose. He turned his head and watched her approach; face as blank as ever. He didn't react when Enid dropped to her hands and knees, partially cuddling him.

She stared intensely into those dark eyes of his. Glenn was about eleven years her senior, but his youthful appearance seemed to challenge this fact. Something about him — no matter if he was smiling or frowning, angry or confused, or just maintaining that poker face of his — was endearing beyond words. Enid wanted to wake up to that face in her arms every morning. She wanted to be able to depend on the fact that, no matter what life would throw at her, she could always fall back on the warmth of the man she'd shared the most milestones in life with. They had a history together which she wanted to continue, and eventually consummate. Enid licked her lips once and then closed in.

Hands against her shoulders stopped her from coming any closer. Glenn's poker face had shattered by this point. In its place was a simple frown. He was still trying to remain strong, but Enid could decipher that restrained pain in his eyes from anywhere. She'd been there for him in the worst of their travels together. That face had become a second friend, by now.

Maggie was dead. It must have been years by now, she wanted to tell him. He had to let her go. But Enid had a feeling he'd never speak to her again if she said it like that. Still, some bandages needed to be ripped off, after all. She wanted to just tell him that. So she decided she would.

"Maggie's dead."

Enid froze. Surprise didn't even begin to cover what she felt.

"She's been dead," Glenn continued. "She's still dead. She's always going to be dead. I know that. I've accepted it. Bringing that fact up doesn't hurt as much as it used to anymore. But, she's still. My. Wife."

There was a long period of silence between them. Enid didn't know what to think, and she didn't know what kind of expression was on her face at the moment. But the tears that now ran down Glenn's face wrenched at her heart. All she wanted to do was kiss them away, and promise she'd do all she could to prevent their return. Before she could say or do anything further to comfort the man she cared so much about, Glenn rose to his feet, unintentionally pushing her out of the way. He put on his boots and began walking off.

"Go to sleep, Enid," he called back, refusing to face her.

Enid slumped. "Where are you going?"

"To tell Perry I'm taking a second watch." And then he was gone.

Enid sat up and buried her face in her palms. What the hell just happened here? It was too surreal. She didn't know what to make of it. Anger, dejection, arousal, fear, grief, and even jealousy. Her eyes felt hot and wet, but she refused to outright cry herself. She only growled in defiance, punched the ground, and then returned to her own bedroll. He'd left her lying alone amidst maddening thoughts, with nothing left to do but to tend to her frustrations in private.

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 **Author's Note: I'd fully intended to come out with these updates last week, but something came up. Kids are a pain. Bless the little bastards.**

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	5. A Credence Compounded

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 **-** **Chapter 5: A Credence Compounded**

It was beginning to look like that same, old story. All those signs and suggestions indicative of venturing too far to the north than seemed necessary. At least it was better than expressing more than idle interest in returning to the Atlantic, thus obliging nostalgia of some viler memories best left forgotten. The previous groups which Enid and Glenn had either created or joined since leaving Virginia behind — and then zigzagging across the east on their journey westward thanks to variously frustrating causes or consensus — had nearly all wound up similarly. Sometimes, the pair would respectfully decline, give a brief explanation, and then part ways with the others amicably enough. They'd seldom win over a few pack mules in the process. Up until discrepancy or death divorced them, that is. Other times, they'd sneak off and disappear without a word. This usually was the preferred method with the more quarrelsome groups, or leaders thereof. Their resident chauvinist, Perry, was showing himself to be this latter as the cities gave way to towns, then into wide-open country and over again.

Gone were his tendencies for half-chivalrous misogyny so missed by comparison since leaving Lake Charles. Little by little, it was becoming ominously apparent that he wasn't so much changing, as he was just exposing his true nature. His followers were worse. There was a grim notion, not beyond the realm of possibility, that they could be influencing Perry more than the other way around. In any case, what Enid foresaw at the end for herself, especially, and for Glenn, importantly, was — for lack of a cleaner descriptor — a degradation in thorough which would be far from painless.

Soft conversations she'd traded in more affectionate proximities revealed early on that Glenn, himself, had been suspecting in kind. It explained why he had stopped resisting lately whenever Enid got the itch to explore during downtimes, and why so many more of his older paternal instincts seemed to be emerging from dormancy. Glenn had even taken to sleeping shoulder to shoulder with her out of an abundance of caution. In fact, many in their now-gigantic group, which had become more of a caravan of bodies and carts and even one draft horse that often looked quite delicious depending on stores at hand, did similarly alongside others who'd been born more or less pigmentationally challenged. Not to mention female. Yet, despite what more pressing dangers she herself faced in theory from such a state of affairs, Enid oddly felt protective rather than defensive. She'd awoken to find her arm around Glenn's waist on more than one occasion; the pistol she'd learned how to sleep safely with still held in the hand at the end of it.

If "that Chinese fool" who'd shown zero qualms in openly challenging Perry's more questionable decisions would finally become a target for the caravan leader and-or his inner circle of like-minded supremacists, they'd have Enid to kill before doing so, and she wouldn't hold back. Hell, facing correction of Glenn's Korean descent would prove to be the least of their troubles from her.

Those were the nights. The days were usually better. Breaks from the asinine that were the incitements of Perry's elite, as well as his miscellaneous contingent of supporters, had become something of a carnival cruise. A freedom still existed through the simple task of being sent out ahead and around to forage for the nomadic community as a whole. Six teams of four were protocol bi-daily. Active foragers were rotated amongst the more able-bodied members of the group's "lesser" races and sexes. Inactive foragers played sentry for the main caravan to protect the incapable, the supplies, and probably Perry and his inner circle. It was through this routine that both Enid and Glenn discovered the plot to mutiny, but only, like underdogs, should tensions come to a head.

In whispers, the side of sedition called a woman their leader who went by the curious name of Anong. She was a quiet and nearly emotionless person, but an experienced eye could see the maelstrom which churned viciously inside of her. Aside from Enid, Glenn, and perhaps three or four others including Perry, this Anong was the only other in the caravan who could be considered a true veteran of survival post-apocalypse. Walkers and bandits fell at her hand in droves by both bullet and knife. Not once had she shown signs of hesitation or fear. She'd simply walk up and kill, forgoing most tactics unless otherwise necessary. There was a story there, of which Anong refused to share, that pulled at Enid's curiosity. She hoped to get a chance to hear it someday.

The rest in their group had proven themselves to be unreliable from an autonomous standpoint. They meant well, of course, but their knowledge and skills of enduring the hardships of the road were pitiable. Over half of them were still multigenerational family units with children and elderly. This detail wasn't so bad on its own, but the trouble was that these units had come from minor settlements which had been overrun by walkers, bandits, or from strife within. Overdependence on walls and designated security teams — comprised of stronger men and women who were willing and able to do what was necessary — had fashioned them to being little more than civilians. People who needed their hands to be held in situations of life and death.

Glenn was too familiar with how these situations tended to play out. Pre-apocalypse, even. Only difference between those times and these were that there was no more regulation on a legislative scale. Matters like these now had to be resolved by taking the law into one's own hands. By relying on one's own reasoning and experiences. Trouble was, people had always seen things differently to begin with. This new world's definition of maintaining harmony was even vaguer than before. Enid was too young to have understood the differences, but she'd asked Glenn to fill in the gaps. Easy enough. It was mostly common sense, anyway.

During the next rare assignment when they were placed on the same foraging team, Enid sought counsel with Glenn. He hushed her almost instantaneously, adding that they already had a plan, so it was pointless to ask. Their plan was to sneak off with all that they could carry once they ensured a proper haven for the caravan's civilians and especially children. Sure, he still held out hope that everything would turn out fine so they both could stay, but this was the plan, regardless. But why such secrecy? It was a noble cause, after all. One that her older self would've disputed, but Glenn's dumbass morals had rubbed off on her. Enid then felt like smacking herself once the realization dawned. There were two others with them whom they barely knew at all. Spies for either side in the coming civil war could've been anyone. Desertion wasn't forbidden, per se, but the extortion of the inner circles made it to be as if it were, nonetheless. And it wasn't always polite. There was yet to be a fatal instance, but those who'd tried deserting one time too many ended up with bruises and strange limps and thousand-yard stares.

The only people they could truly trust were each other. It'd been that way since Alexandria, after all. The two others with them were Lauren and Nicolas, or perhaps Laurence and Nicole. Enid didn't pay attention to most of these new guys. They kept coming in too fast for her to be bothered. At any rate, Enid picked up a penchant for calling them by various neutral designations, like "dude" or "fucker."

In the lobby of an urgent care clinic, the team split in two. Glenn's instructions for the teams he lead had become quite curt by this point. In and out in fifteen minutes. First sign of trouble? Every man for himself. But Enid learned, when this operation was aborted, that he only added that last part so there would be less of a chance that he'd have to go back and save the stragglers. Worked like a charm, apparently. Aside from this operation, of course, where he ended up rescuing the surrounded pair of blubbering newbies from a paltry pack of seven or so walkers. Enid backed him up without question, but complaints fell under another category entirely. Still, as Glenn explained to her while the four of them returned to the caravan with their meager haul — which included a few doses of much needed, though arguably deserved, antibiotics — if his stupid teammates had already fled far away for their lives, then he could worry about his own ass more often.

A smack. "If you ever need help watching that ass of yours, you know where to find me."

A groan. "Shut up, Enid."

Playing hero was now a role he had come to despise, or at least that's what he told everybody. He made damn sure everybody knew this. But Enid believed that it was a part of him which was simply inborn, no matter how much he'd suffered. Somewhere deep down, buried beneath all the enervated snark and occasional snarls, Glenn was still the same, old Glenn. That part of him was like a walker now. Not thinking. Only doing. Unwanted, but always present. Killable, of course, yet somehow undying. Overwhelming when ignored too long. This actually filled Enid with a kind of strength and inspiration. It was the only relic left from Virginia which could do anything of the sort.

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	6. For Strangers Held Clear Understanding

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 **-** **Chapter 6: For Strangers Held Clear Understanding**

Tensions grew thicker by the week, especially once the boundary into Arkansas was crossed from Louisiana. Every worthwhile-looking haven they'd tried for since Lake Charles had either already been overrun to irreparable levels, or already occupied by nefarious groups who were superior in firepower, and unwilling to share. Heated arguments within their caravan exchanged by the day, and fruitless fistfights became commonplace. The voices of sedition soon yelled much more than whispered, and began to demand for sides to be chosen. Neither Perry nor Anong could hold back the floodgates forever. It was maybe a week, at the most, that both Enid and Glenn estimated when the line would be drawn to separate the caravan down the middle or so.

With the hammer of mutiny so eager to fall, the duo were beseeched, with maddening constancy, to pledge their allegiance to Anong's side via her self-appointed henchmen and women. But it all had become much too convoluted. The leaders themselves looked to hold less authority than the inner circles they were supposed to be in control of. Enid and Glenn were about to be caught in a war of hypocrisy and politics; of which race and gender roles were the purported. It was going to be the kind of war where old-world prejudices were to be solved with new-world methodologies. It was a fight neither Enid nor Glenn could bother to spare any sympathy for. Not after all they'd been through, and especially not with the prospect of so little to ultimately gain.

There was more to lose, in reality. If even only a few of their best were to die from the fighting, then those left behind would be forced to inherit the burdens of the fallen and feeble. So the duo made the decision to desert at the first good opportunity towards the end of what would've probably been the foraging teams' last free run, anyway. Coincidentally, this run also brought about the final straw.

It unexpectedly came about from one of the people who were supposed to be on their side. Enid stared daggers at the brute who towered over an unimpressed Glenn. The brute was a former NCAA lineman named Victor. He would've made a good lackey in Perry's elite, but his skin color didn't match to the chauvinist side's ideals. How the football player remained so pudgily brawny after so long traveling at minimum rations, Enid would never know.

Victor had been placed in overall command of the operation. He'd kept Enid and Glenn separated throughout the whole thing. He knew. Of that, there was no doubt.

The confrontation was initiated by Victor after the mission was complete and the all-clear signal was radioed to the caravan, who'd been waiting nearby. Every active forager team was present due to the scope of the operation. They'd been ordered to clear a large building, and its surrounding park, of walkers and possible outlaws, which they did with negligible losses. The building was a museum. Built and named for a former US president whose name Enid didn't recognize, the museum stood the rough equivalent of five floors high, and was partially suspended off the ground. It seemed quite easily defensible. Infinite bonus points for the fact that it sat next to a river. About time the nomadic community found a place to settle, but the prospect of who'd be in charge of it brought a scowl to Enid's face. The scowl only grew livid when she saw Victor push Glenn out of spite.

Glenn still held firm, barely responding with not much more than suggestions to desist through veiled insults. Victor spent what felt like minutes calling Glenn every single variation of "coward" and "traitor" he could think of, all for not having promised his support for Anong. She wouldn't be present for another couple of minutes or so, judging from the mass of approaching people they could see outside the huge windows. Enid stood nearby, threatening Victor to calm down and back off, all while keeping her hand at her holster. She was so very tempted to pull her gun if Victor were to lay a more forceful hand on Glenn, but the latter had managed to get her to begrudgingly promise to only kill in self-defense during life-or-death situations, or the like.

The other foragers stood around innocuously enough, save for a few pleas for peace here and there. Nevertheless, Enid remained vigilant. She knew full well that Victor wouldn't be as much of a concern as he made himself to be, especially with her history of seeing firsthand what Glenn was fully capable of. It was the others around them whom Enid was watching. Though all present were equally considered as being part of the "lesser" by Perry's elite, each individual actually held their own rationales for which of the two sides to support. Enid was with Glenn on neither side until the end, so hostilities were probable from anybody.

Victor looked to have his own support at the ready. Two other foragers standing behind Enid encouraged the brute to ally Glenn by force. A glance over her shoulder showed them to be two people whom she'd only had minimal experience with. One was a blonde, lanky teenager with obnoxiously frizzy dreadlocks who stood only slightly shorter than Victor, and the other a much smaller man in his thirties who was more around Enid's size.

Then she smiled, biting the inside of her bottom lip. She knew that look on Glenn's face. He'd had enough. To the gasps and exclamations of the other foragers, Victor was floored with a single head-butt. All that muscle and fat meant shit when a solid mass of bone hit the face. The smaller ones made their move. They were charging right past Enid, ignoring her entirely with eyes centered squarely at the man who was currently in the process of dodging the punches of a fourth forager who'd rushed to Victor's aid. Ironically enough, they didn't view Glenn's inseparable female companion as a threat. The smaller one in the back took a lesson in making bad judgment calls — with a dose of Newton's Third Law, for good measure — when he ran straight into Enid's fist.

She held him in a half-nelson hold with a leg through his own for added denial of movement. With her free hand, she made quick, calculated jabs into the side of his neck, earning gasps of pain. Glenn had been teaching her well. What she lacked in pure strength in no far difference than Glenn himself, she'd learned to make up for with leverage control and unconventionality. Her opponent had been thinking along the lines of the latter, apparently. He'd wriggled free just enough to flail desperately. Of all his fists flying with wayward abandon, he managed to connect an elbow against Enid's crotch.

Yeah, it hurt like hell. A lot of bone was there, after all. But one advantage of having inner genitalia was less relative pain to be felt from such impacts. The same couldn't be said of Enid's opponent, who felt the full brunt of her knee smashing his balls in reprisal. It was only when she heard the collective groan of sympathy from all around her that Enid realized the other foragers hadn't stepped in at all because they'd been, and still were, cheering on the brawls.

The thirtysomething could be considered neutralized. Enid rose quickly and then dashed towards Glenn to help. He was holding his own against the lanky teenager and the new chubby woman by using the bookshelves to keep their strength divided, but they looked like they, themselves, knew what they were doing, too. Halfway there, Enid screamed as something slammed against her right ankle. The wooden floor caused her to skid once she fell forward. She grabbed at her ankle and snarled. When she rolled over to see the source of the attack, she found herself staring far up at the bloodied face of Victor as he cracked his knuckles. She gasped, and allowed the adrenaline to drown out the pain so she could jump back up to her feet. The top of her head barely leveled with his pillowy man-boobs.

"Holy shit," she grumbled. Then came the sheepish grin. "You look a lot bigger when Glenn's not standing between us."

"All I got to do is punch the shit out of you one time," he said. "One time, and you're dead."

Enid looked over her shoulder for a second to see Glenn starting to win. She then turned back to Victor and sneered. "I think there's been a bit of a mix-up. I should be taking on those two back there." She yelped. He'd charged. Enid dodged his grabs ungracefully, fumbling off her hands and knees while weaving through the museum displays to avoid the brute's reach. The crowd only hollered throughout the whole spectacle.

Just when she'd been cornered, Glenn came out of nowhere and tackled the distracted Victor from the side. Nice, Enid thought. She knew he could take care of those two karate-chopping assholes by himself! Then the wooden floor sped at her with frightening haste before reacquainting itself with her face. The fluid in her head was spinning. The right side of her jaw throbbed mercilessly. Before she knew it, that same female forager who Glenn had been tussling with straddled her at the stomach and wrapped her hands around her throat.

Enid choked out for air, resisting the urge to call out for Glenn like a wuss. Instead, a memory rushed through her mind. She'd once witnessed Glenn free himself from this same situation against a bandit a long time ago. She regained control of her instincts and stopped failing to claw up at the woman's face. Following his precedent, Enid punched at the arms of her attacker with all the strength and accuracy she could summon until the chokehold was loosened enough for her to shove the woman off. Welcoming a deep breath, she crawled away backwards to gain distance. Enid shot up and felt her back hit another back. She turned to share a momentary look of confusion with Glenn before they were both set upon by their respective foes. Plus the thirtysomething, who had recovered from his nuts being smashed.

The writhing, wrestling mass was lifted off the floor and forcefully separated. The rest of the caravan had arrived, practically filling up the showroom to capacity. Enid saw more appearing on the balconies above, just watching. She looked at Glenn. A few grazes on his cheeks, and what would probably develop into a bruise on his mouth, but he was fine. The rest of them were similar, but would be okay, too. Even the lanky teenager who was being helped up off the floor by other foragers. She supposed that it could be considered lucky that nobody had been killed or irreversibly injured. She didn't think anybody wanted to actually kill each other. That's what their guns and blades would've been for. It was just a petty brawl more meant to enforce or resist dominance, than anything else.

Funnily enough, Perry, of all people, was the one who was holding Victor back. He demanded why, as the operation leader, he had allowed this brawl to go down. Things only escalated from there. The inner circles erupted during Victor's rant against Perry, ready to tear out each other's throats. Both Anong and Perry's names became curse words, though they themselves tried to keep the peace, surprisingly. The civilians and most of the foragers backed off and hugged the windows and corners as displays were knocked over, or even shoved, to the floor in fits of rage.

Enid pushed through the crowd of bodies to find Glenn. She found him doing the same. They locked eyes and froze for a fleeting instant before closing the distance. When the fists started flying, the duo gave them space and carefully watched the chaos and bedlam. In afterthought, Enid ushered Glenn nearer to one of the concrete bookshelves. Others followed suit. The bookshelves would provide decent cover on the chance that bullets would start flying.

There were portions of both inner circles who felt that things had gone too far. Slowly, but surely, they broke up the mob with the assistance of braver foragers and civilians. Nevertheless, it was glaringly obvious that hostilities had officially begun. Staying with the caravan at this point would only force every single man, woman, and probably even child to choose their side and fight for it. When the pandemonium had quieted back down to mere shouting matches, Enid noticed what was happening throughout the museum. Civilians and foragers alike began lifting their bags and drifting away. Not so many for the acts to be obvious enough to draw the entire caravan's attention, but perhaps one in every eight were leaving in disgust. A few more began to follow suit after catching sight of those others leaving. It was mostly the single, but at least one family unit outright fled for the stairs back down to ground level. Unfortunately, however, there would still be plenty of people left for the inner circles to recruit in the days to come.

Enid could tell that Glenn was seeing what she was seeing from her peripheral vision. As they both settled on watching the screeching loose crowd in the middle, she slowly and quietly locked her fingers between his. He accepted her wholeheartedly. At her squeeze, he turned his head to her and nodded. They both understood that it was time to go. There was no hope left for these people. Together, they turned their backs on the inner circles, silently wished both Perry and Anong luck, and then left the building.

Though they had both zoned out during the walk from the ordeal, they eventually realized that there was the sound of extra bodies moving through the unkempt grass behind them. Glenn glanced once over his shoulder and sighed inwardly. He tapped Enid at her elbow to do the same. Not all of them had followed, but there were at least eight. No, nine. Except for the male gay couple she'd seen around the caravan, the others were walking far apart from one another. They didn't know each other. They didn't know Enid and Glenn; except by reputation, maybe. But they didn't want to stay under the rule of the inner circles, and they didn't want to risk trying to survive on the road without people who knew what they were doing. They had no place else to go.

Glenn went with Enid's lead as she stopped and turned fully towards them. One by one, they stopped moving, as well. They all just stared. No talking. No questions. The others' expressions read uncertainty, or perhaps some fool's hope that the duo would show mercy and allow them to tag along. At least for a while.

Glenn sighed. "We're leaders. Always have been."

"With followers," Enid said. "There always will be."

"Never really matters who starts off in charge, does it? It always seems to just go back down to us, in the end."

"If you didn't really care, you would've never —"

"Yeah, yeah." He shrugged at her. "So, what now?"

Enid moved in close, and then tilted her head at him. "Your call," she said quietly. "I made the last one, and look where it's left us. Lost in the middle of butt-fuck Egypt after God knows how long under Perry."

"Neither of us could've known what kind of person he was, or where we'd end up. That wasn't your fault."

"Regardless, it's still your turn this time. Do you want us to be a group, or not?"

Glenn narrowed his eyes at her. Enid still had trouble deciphering that look. It always seemed to follow with a surprise. But there was no way in hell he'd turn these people down, even though a part of her wanted him to. And he didn't, of course.

He motioned his head for them to move on up. A mixture of smiles, nods, and breaths of relief were the answer. Tighter now, like a more proper group, they continued southwest on Enid's compass. They walked in complete silence for a long time. The lack of winds only emphasized it. Then it happened. Rather, Enid thought it did. She couldn't be sure, but once the museum became just another spec of many behind them, she could've sworn she heard gunshots in the distance. Like the others who glanced at her in recognition, she made no comment.

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 **Author's Note: The Season 6 finale is tomorrow. I'm actually going to watch it! If Glenn dies, I'm posting the explicit scene early.**

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 **[Super-secret, ultra-hidden November 2016 update: Psst, I'm still here. Like the assholes they are, the kids who are not technically mine picked this year — out of all years — to take up almost every free moment of my time. But, I'm still working on this constantly, plus another Glennid project on the side. Also, damn you AMC for Season 7]**


	7. Brought Forward to Follow

**Author's Note: I'm back! Hooray! Let us continue.**

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— **Chapter 7: Brought Forward to Follow**

Leaving Arkansas proved to be no simple task, and the number their group began as was destined to fluctuate. Instead of heading straight for Texas like originally planned, a detour was forced into the southeastern corner of Oklahoma. Survival implored them to speed through without rest, as a walker herd trailed them mercilessly. With some clever backtracking and far-flung diversions, the herd was lost totally in the wilderness of a state park. This would've been an ideal sanctuary to fight for under less paranormal circumstances, but each spirit was burdened with inertia and torpor. Added to that further were the grisly remainders of what survivor communes had fallen around the banks of the park's lake and rivers. Every vehicle had been siphoned dry long before. The water was too polluted to drink. Nevertheless, they'd scavenged enough nonperishables to tide them through more legs of their aimless journey. Texas itself had apparently fared little better. At least, from what they could see of it.

The highways and backroads into the Lone Star State were fortified. So was the flatland on either side of these pavements for sometimes as long as a thousand or more paces. The distances between them were lined with perimeter fencing at the height of a man and a half. There were ample opportunities to bypass, of course, but the fact that these old fortifications even existed was discouraging.

Some of the defenses looked to have been constructed with soldierly precision. The rest were just ad-hoc and slapdash. The only common characteristic was that they'd all been overrun for some time. That, and the fact that there weren't many of the usual signs that it had been due to walkers. It was completely possible that these defenses were built specifically to keep _people_ out, but the real mystery there was what _kind_ of people. This risk alone was what dissuaded their group from ever crossing over to find out. At least, not until they would reach a point along the border for the prevalence of the fortifications to begin disappearing, but that point wasn't too fast approaching.

Sources of water became sparse now and then, but the occasional light rainfalls were pleasantly all-day affairs. This actually was the reason for why their group's numbers dropped the sharpest. To discrepancy, and not death. The drop wasn't so bad in and of itself, as the last thing Glenn and Enid wanted was to become the founders of their very own caravan. So many had been picked up since Arkansas. All of them northerners, or fellow nomads from back east. Many more decided to settle with an average of perhaps three people per ghost town they passed. Enid, Glenn, and a few others respected these people's decisions, but remained firm in their grit to move onward. Although the act of enabling the stereotype of twister-ravaged Oklahoman summers wasn't lost on them, they still didn't want to chance it. There were only twelve of them left by the time they started to become familiar with a terrifying and new kind of threat; the potential of which was wrought with ominous implications.

Something changed about the weather. Perhaps it was due to the unprecedented amount of human commotion that displaced the whole world back during the panics in the earlier days of the outbreak. Even on an annual basis, dust storms were supposed to have been a statistical rarity around the country's desert regions. Let alone its plains areas. They may not have exactly been a daily occurrence, but every so often at random, a new one would show.

Sometimes, the storms would simply pass their group over in the distance. Other times, they would be forced to hunker down in the nearest shelter. Either that, or choose to march through during the more desperate of situations and hope that the storm would be brief. The walkers were still fairly few in these parts, but those that had already been close proved that they weren't as slowed down by the phenomenon as the living were. Not only that, but the dead were attracted to the various sources of light their group would sometimes need to use as beacons to stay together in the thicker dust storms. Like heat-seeking missiles, the walkers could and would zero right onto their positions. Moving fast was essential, if they needed to go through. Even if no one suffered an injury or worse in the end, such encounters were apprehension incarnate. It harked back to that hurricane which Enid and Glenn had caught themselves in long ago near the Gulf Coast. That had been an ordeal they both wished had stayed a memory.

It was fortunate that the walkers had been few, and that the storms so far were said to be relatively small. It was a Godsend, really, because there was one thing they felt would be worse than a mob of walkers closing in for the kill. That thing was that same mob of walkers being unable to be seen. Dust storms were already hundreds of feet high and many miles wide. They were loud, fast, and could last anywhere from 20 minutes to as much as — from what they'd heard from the ones in their group who had endured them in the distant past — three or four hours. They stung the eyes, irritated the nostrils, and their powerful winds made walking in a straight line a chore. However, tales from one of their newer group members, Tommy, told of what were called _haboobs_. He said that, despite their name, they were nothing to laugh at. While he may have been exaggerating, Tommy claimed that these were the most unholy of dust storms, and could dusk even the highest of noons. Their activity attracted walkers from miles around, and could last long enough to, in time, cause corpses and teeth to seemingly just appear out of thin air. Tommy also believed that doing cartwheels around the perimeter of their campsites kept the walkers away for up to 525 minutes, so his credibility was in question.

It wasn't long since the storms that the days slowed to a crawl. In the beginning, their conditioned group could stroll between ten to twenty miles through sunlight leisurely, depending on scavenging opportunities and weather, but the barrenness of the Great Plains was taking its toll. Not so much on the group as a whole, but more mentally on the duo who'd been leading their way. Whereas the remaining soldiered beside them with few questions in faith, Enid and Glenn wondered in private if it was about time to settle down. Although it was true that their motivation for traveling west had since delved a tad more towards the realms of curiosity than leaving the past behind, the two couldn't deny that they now had the welfare of others to think about. But it'd never been so much about the destination in the first place. Company was principal. At least, it was so for Enid.

The further away from the museum they traveled, the more of a memory that doomed caravan became. Though sympathies were spoken in passing for those who'd stayed behind out of desperation, regret for having fled was nearly nonexistent. All that really mattered to Enid was Glenn, and she liked to believe that the feeling was mutual. What had grown such a sentiment even stronger than before was the fact that, despite the dangers of the inner circles having passed, Glenn _still_ slept at her side in the night. He'd even done so for six nights in a row; on the first six nights since they left that museum. There hadn't been any invitation out from her mouth, nor was any attention ever called toward it by either of them. And nowadays, if Glenn were the first of them to turn in for the evening, he'd just lay himself down. Sooner or later, once all was deemed right by her shift, Enid would pull up her own bedroll right beside his, and they'd both doze off like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. It looked to have become something of a new norm between them.

Funnily enough, Enid still woke up now and then to find her arm wrapped protectively across his waist. Old habits, and all that. Except now, she no longer felt the compulsion to embarrassedly pull away if Glenn were to stir and find her practically snuggling him. Especially, right before she opened her own eyes. She looked forward to those quiet, little sleepy headed smiles they'd share in the morning. Under more ideal circumstances, she'd lean over and nip at those wickedly tempting lips, but she controlled herself each time. Enid learned from her mistakes, and accepted that there was still a metric fuck-ton of understanding that had to be hashed out between them before she could start pushing their relationship further from this point. But it didn't stop the wondering.

The consideration of where she truly stood in her relationship with Glenn ruled Enid's thoughts more than she'd care to admit. Their time in Perry's caravan had changed who they were to each other. Shared moments of any kind of intimacy in the days since were indubitable at worst. Thusly — awaiting, at best.

Glenn had grown old enough to become a romantic at heart, and Enid was more than willing to oblige. Much more than once had a stare without words lasted longer than could be deemed merely sociable. Small notes sprinkled down with words of saccharinity would be slipped into his palm during walks. A hug, chest to breast, would be stolen through even the most simplest of excuses. Laying heads down on laps during breaks in the march became common to contented degrees. She regarded this "courtship without culmination" as ample for the moment. It was further than she'd gotten with Glenn since she'd started. If anything, this served to preoccupy her mind. After all, something had to drown out the overwhelming emptiness that was the Great Plains.

They'd been finding just enough food to keep tempers from flaring, but the near-nothing of their surroundings was a sight they would rather forget. The group as a whole couldn't really complain about it, though. It was, indeed, of their own doing. The cities and larger towns were avoided on instinct. It was strange, however, how the dead always seemed to find them no matter where they were.

Herd-level conglomerations of walkers were concentrated around metropolitan areas, of course, but the dead still roamed in the smallest of numbers across even the most rural of areas; where highways and byways were all that drew borders for the vast expanses of arid grassland that stretched into each and every direction. Cold nights and blistering days only emphasized the immensity of solitude. Foraging proved sparse, though the occasional hut or ranch in the distance almost always seemed to have a few useful morsels that previous survivors had missed. Contrary to popular belief, people in general were clever, clever bastards. Whether stashed before the walkers, or after their conquest, the first rule of scavenging was that there was nothing left in the world that wasn't hidden. Enid hammered it into her charges. She, herself, had learned it from Glenn. The rest were fellow former foragers from the caravan who had known it from them, or by trial.

Canned food beneath a loose floorboard, or perhaps batteries in a Ziploc stuffed into the rip of a couch. A machete was found taped to the back of a fridge, and clean clothing was swapped at every opportunity. Was it stealing? Maybe. There was sometimes the talk of how long each had been there. The freshest-seeming stashes were usually left alone. The rest, though? Finders, keepers.

It was after one of these foraging trips where things between Enid and Glenn would birth the first stage of becoming unreal. Glenn's group returned from the pileup of vehicles on the highway empty-handed. No big deal. It happened. Enid's group didn't fare all that better, but the men's bathroom at the rest stop yielded some ammunition for one of their members. Two shotgun shells from an old fluorescent ceiling lamp. They'd been wrapped in napkins as camouflage, but they slid out easily enough at her coaxing.

"We need to talk," was the first thing Glenn said to Enid as soon as the two groups reunited. "There's an old, little factory further down the road that we checked out. It looks decent, so we're going to hole up there for the night. We'll find a place in there where we can speak in private later on once everybody's settled in."

Enid nodded slowly to this. That little speech was rehearsed. "What are we going to talk about?" she asked.

There was a strange period of silence between them. It didn't really last long, but it wasn't over quickly, either. His eyes searched hers fiercely, though his face showed otherwise. To Enid, it looked like he was trying his best to figure out what kind of expression to give her. Finally, he gave her a small smile.

"Us," he answered. "What else?"

Enid raised a mischievous eyebrow. To that, Glenn gave a lighthearted scoff, and only a lighthearted scoff. He simply walked away after; neither confirming, nor denying, a thing. She watched him walk away the entire time, of course. He was so much more fit since their travels began. She loved to watch him leave.

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	8. Twisting Me

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 **— Chapter 8: Twisting Me **

The arid-green pastures of northwestern Texas passed them by at a comfortable speed. Through the smudged, dirty window, a setting sun was shining amidst the steady hum of their diesel-fed engine. Enid couldn't remember the last time she'd heard such a noise, but it was a refreshing familiarity. The road was bumpy in parts, but there was little choice. They had to detour constantly to avoid pileups and abandoned blockades.

Seated at the RV's table with an elbow on the surface, she glanced at the pistol in front of her once again as a routine check just to see if it was still there. She'd been charged with keeping an eye on the injured soldier who slept on the couch parallel to her. Her duty wasn't to tend to the soldier's care, but to shoot him if he reanimated. Corporal Burch was his rank and family name, respectively, going by the insignia and tags. That is, if those fatigues really belonged to him. He'd been bleeding from a self-amputated leg, but he stabilized himself. A medic, he identified as, of the US Army. They asked him to elaborate more on how it existed in the small form which he'd claimed, but he refused to detail location or numbers. The boy who never left his side was seated at the foot of the couch. He was asleep for the moment, as well, but when Enid caught him staring at her the hour before, she gave a smile that was returned to energetically. Considering what the boy, three or four years old, had just gone through, his behavior was kind of impressive.

Their group had found Burch, and the small boy named Joshua, the morning before. There was gunfire in the distance, so Glenn sent a pair to investigate. By the time Glenn, Enid, and the rest rushed in to assist, it was too late. The soldier's entire group was killed by a surprise mob of walkers drawn in by five trigger-happy bandits. All they'd been able to do was clean up what hostile living and walking dead were left, and then listen to the soldier's story briefly before he passed out from blood loss. The little boy wasn't related to him, but they seemed to have established a bond. Joshua wept at the soldier's side until Glenn soothed him. The boy also served as the only person who could back up the soldier's story, but he was barely able to form valid sentences.

The story, as Burch had detailed further after regaining consciousness, sounded longer and more complicated than he'd originally explained. He'd been sent out from "somewhere in Texas" with a squad a few weeks before to attempt establishing connection with the Air Force base up in Oklahoma City, which was rumored to have still been manned. The mission was forfeited when most of his squad was slaughtered by what he described as "a battalion-level" amount of armed and angry men and women. The suburbs around the city were a warzone, he said. These bandits chased him and what remained of his squad for miles, giving up dozen by dozen, until only a handful remained with the task to harass them till death. The bandits wanted their military grade gear and weaponry. Eventually, Corporal Burch was the only one left. He was saved by Joshua's group in their little convoy of three Winnebagos when they chanced upon him nearly dead from exhaustion on the road out of Tipton. With nowhere else to go after their community had fallen, the convoy decided to escort Burch to his destination. Their intent was to drive to the town of Farwell, Texas, which served as the head of a friendly community that Corporal Burch's own had been trading supplies with for some time.

Exhausted and desperate, Enid and Glenn made the call to give the whole thing a shot. Any possible deviations would be dealt with as they came to them. The rest in their group didn't argue.

Their new trio of RVs were of two different sizes. They weren't exactly well-maintained, and their interiors were far from spotless, but it was better than hoofing it. Actually, bicycles would probably be ideal, but it was as if they'd disappeared off the face of the Earth. At least, for the moment, they had the luxury of not only transportation, but flush toilets and scheduled bi-daily showers. Glenn was up front driving with one of their own navigating. They were in the smallest of the trio at the head of the convoy. This was a gift from the fates if there ever was one. Winnebagos, food, fuel, and even a possible friendly community were in their near future. It was almost too good to be true, but so had Alexandria in the beginning. By all respects, things were looking up for the first time in a long time. But little of it occupied more than a moment's reflection for Enid.

It was late in the afternoon. They were coming up at the end of the fourth day since that night at the factory; where she'd been pulled aside by Glenn just shy of completing her shift of guard duty for the night. Downstairs, alone together in the lobby, they'd spoken and debated for what felt like hours. Essentially, Glenn had given her what equated to a romantic ultimatum.

If you want me, come and get me.

Under any other circumstance, Enid would probably be far more concerned with whether or not the next few weeks would show if she'd be growing a little half-Korean baby in her right about now. But she learned long ago that having Glenn Rhee, and the already mind-boggling concept of love, in the same sentence was anything but simple.

He belonged to Maggie Greene, and Maggie Greene alone. He'd said so himself, and further beseeched Enid to understand that it was quite possible that their relationship just wouldn't be fair to her. Enid, on the other hand, argued that the earthly concept of love would mean little in the afterlife; if there was one. Three being a crowd couldn't stand in such ways of their feelings for one another. This was a yarn of philosophy she remembered from a research paper she had half-assed back in sixth grade English class. Since then, she rationalized its meaning as the answer to why so many over the contrary would encourage both widows and widowers to "move on" with their lives. To that, Glenn questioned where it would end. By that logic, would an army of strangers surround two or three, awaiting their minute for a lover's embrace? Enid reasoned to that — albeit poorly, to her disappointment — that the concept itself was more complicated. But was it, really?

What stopped her from arguing any further was something Glenn had asked her. A single, simple question that haunted her for the past four days.

"So, how long would you wait after I died?"

She didn't have an answer. Would she wait? Could she wait? She hoped to never find out, but it was driving her practically insane. If she believed that "moving on" was normal for the widowed, then it would mean her love for Glenn would never match his own for her. That wouldn't be fair to Glenn, and she refused to do anything of the sort to him. Yet, the problem in that was that Glenn's heart already belonged to another who was resting in peace. He seemed to sincerely believe like he could ever only love his late wife. That wouldn't be fair to Enid. Their relationship would be a lie. One that could very well last for the rest of their lives.

Aside from contributing to the needs of their group as a whole, drowning in angst was how their last four days were spent. For Enid, she needed to accept that Glenn would always love Maggie first and foremost. For Glenn, he needed to decide how he could ever love Enid back, if he even could. That is, if she, herself, chose to close their divide. This was far from how she could've seen this playing out.

Enid had finally arrived at the doorstep of what was, debatably, an ill-gotten gain. From there on out, what would happen between her and Glenn would pretty much be final. Over-expected, or underrated. Happily ever after, or never again. In all honesty, the possibilities terrified her. It wouldn't have been too much of a stretch to say that she'd been enjoying "the hunt," as it were. Though, that couldn't have been all. Her feelings for Glenn were as genuine as water was crucial to life, but the viewpoint he'd shared put no small amount of doubt in her own most underlying motivations.

No, not doubt. It was an appeal to regard all prospects through a window of impartiality. He'd meant her to take a long, hard, and scrutinizing look at their possible future together, as well as all it entailed.

From a pragmatic perspective, their relationship was doomed to fail. One of them was going to die sooner or later. Adamancy to such adverse absolutisms was what had driven them to outlast so many so far, but said absolutisms still demanded respect in order to ward ruins in sorrow. After all, one's fortunes were finite in this fragmented world. Then from the point of view of an idealist, Glenn was offering his body to her to fulfill her most wicked desires, but his mind and soul would be subjects of debate. Sex wasn't all she wanted. Her longing for a complete, unconditional union with this man was what had driven her to stay by his side since they both marched out of Virginia. There would never be a tear from his eyes, if she'd help it. There would never be a threat to his life, if she'd help it. Enid also liked to believe that, despite what Glenn had said, the reason he'd never left her side all this time was due to feeling just the same for her. Still . . .

Glenn's devotion to his late wife was unending. He only had such to spare for one woman. Death to the couple whose real happiness only began in each other's arms transcended beyond concepts of clarity. They were together in life. They'd be reunited in death. At least, this is what Glenn felt in his heart. Enid couldn't help but wonder if Maggie would've felt the same, were she in Glenn's position. The world was full of suitable partners. Even post-apocalypse. Many were equipped to satisfy even the most perverted of carnal desires, and some within that could placate whatever variation of companionship was being sought. But there was only one Glenn.

By the time they'd settled their convoy for the night, Enid couldn't decide whether this reasoning stemmed from her unwarranted jealousy of a dead woman, or as a call to herself to pursue romance with others. Yet a-fucking-gain. Was she lying to herself that Maggie didn't love Glenn as much he did her, or were she just excusing herself for the greed of . . . herself? It was maddening.

When the group met in the center of their angled RVs off the road to prepare their camp for the night, Enid found that Glenn was still avoiding her on purpose. Rather, giving her space. He had already stated that he was hers to have, but she might never truly know if he'd be giving himself fully. She couldn't read minds. Unless Glenn decided well enough from his own musings, it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility to think that their pending rapport would stay forever one-sided. He had told Enid he cared for her. Deeply, and in more ways than one. He had promised to give her whatever she wanted. Yet, his actual love was still in question by his very own words.

A hope still existed, however, as gifted from the wisdom of another old person. Seemed to be a lot of that going around. Their resident senior heartbroken, Valerie, was basically who had started this entire conundrum between Glenn and Enid in the first place. Of all the rest in their group, the senior seemed to have identified and understood the tensions and body language shared between their leaders the best. Mostly because she'd been through something similar recently during her stint as one of the earliest members of what had later become known as Perry's caravan. She had opened this up to Glenn during their part of the group's fruitless search of the pileup on the highway four days before, and Glenn was inspired to open up to Enid that subsequent night. When approached with no pleasantries to question all that'd been shared, the senior told Enid the same story and ruminations that she had with Glenn.

Valerie had a husband who died the decade before. They'd been lucky enough to enjoy the long fairy-tale marriage that so many wanted, but so little gained. She'd been content with her remaining family as a widow since then, but when the walkers came, they got separated. A lonely, but persistent, young man who was a bit more than half her age managed to earn her affections not too long ago; perhaps due to how much she saw her late husband within him. She found herself caught in a personal quandary not unlike Glenn. In the end, Valerie's suitor agreed that her soul belonged to her husband, but if he would've _accepted_ that she didn't have to stop loving her husband to love him, as well, then they could consummate.

Yet, it wasn't enough for her suitor. Their story didn't end happily. Valerie was wishing Glenn and Enid the best for their own. Now both had to decide for themselves how to begin the impending from there.

As she and some others set up their campfire to save the power from using the heaters of their RVs, Enid couldn't help but donate a glance towards Glenn now and then. His movements were robotic as he helped set up nightly defenses, and his face seemed divisive and distant. Like herself, he would only put on an expression of poise whenever spoken to directly by another. But the face would come back with enough quiet or monotony.

Dinner was had in near-silence per usual. It seemed like each member of the group, including Enid and Glenn to some extent, were — by their very nature — quite solitary to begin with. It was kind of enchanting, in its own twisted way; how this implied that a collection of the introverted had overcome their social reluctances to band together for mutual survival. Looking around, Enid could tell it was probably closer to the truth than mere speculation. Of the ten of them left, not counting the two newest additions, six were faces she remembered since Perry's caravan. They had followed her and Glenn for all of this time, and had never complained enough to leave. She still wouldn't consider them friends, and she still would rather lose them than to remain in charge of their welfare, but she'd rush to their aid if they ever needed it. And, by losing them, she meant less of "hoping they'd run off and leave them alone," and more of "parting ways harmoniously after ensuring that they'd be safe wherever they were." Perhaps Farwell was the answer to all of their problems.

Bandages were changed, weapons were inspected and decontaminated, and scheduled showers were taken. Herself and Glenn were among this second night's grouping who could enjoy a brief and revitalizing stint in one of the showers, and both were finished in time to find a good spot to relax for the next few hours. At separate sides of the camp.

This was infuriating. Enid hadn't been anywhere close to Glenn in forever. She reread a comic of hers alone by the light of the campfire. She didn't bother looking up to see what he was doing, but her thoughts were of him more than what was on each page. Tonight would have to be the night. He had told her to make the first move, after all.

Nightfall meant immediate sleep for some, and an insomniac's boredom for others. The closest thing they had to a rule of "lights out" was when the third shift in guard duty occurred. Yet, this was loosely enforced and was more of a surrender to slumber for the last still lingering. As long as everybody remained attentive during their watch, and could keep up well enough during daylight, then it didn't matter how much or how little each person slept. Since Arkansas, there'd been very few incidents stemming from inadequate alertness, and none had been caused by any still remaining.

Tonight was one of those slower nights. The ones left awake by this time were herself, Glenn, the current guard, and two others. Three others, possibly, if that fool Tommy was doing more cartwheels in the darkness again. Enid rose from the campfire and took a deep breath. She looked over at Glenn the same moment he looked over at her. He'd been performing some mindless inventory, apparently. They stared for some seconds until Enid turned to one of the bigger RVs. She motioned her head for him to follow, which he did with a serious nod.

After Glenn shut the door behind them, he moved to the couch in front of the window that faced away into the night-hidden plains. Enid joined him at the other end, not knowing how to start. The cabin of the RV was left unlit on purpose. The only light came from the moon peering through glass.

He was looking at her with a patient, polite expectancy. Enid sighed before she began. "I wanted to ask you a few dumb questions first," she said. "I want you to answer them completely without any bullshit, okay?"

"Ask them."

"Seriously, Glenn. I think you, at the very least, owe me that much."

"Enid, ask me whatever you want. I'll answer whatever I can. Everything else, I'll tell you straight up if I don't have a good answer for it."

"Okay. I'll take it. Now, if I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?"

"I'd kiss you back."

"If I wanted a little tongue?"

"I'd give it to you. Then I'd suck on yours for as long as you'd let me."

Enid froze for a second. Just a second. "And, if I were to, say, get in close and slide my hands up your thighs, would you just sit there and let it happen?"

"Well, I'd pull you a little closer and guide those hands of yours someplace a little more fun."

Enid's mouth hung open very, very slightly. The air was starting to feel a little close in this here Winnebago.

"So, if I were to shove you down onto that bed and start nibbling on your neck, would you stop me?"

"Passed a certain point, probably. In either case, I'd be a little busy trying to find the most sensitive parts of your back. For future reference."

Enid exhaled. "Um, okay. I'm starting to think this is a dream."

"It's not."

"Are you sure?" A pause. _"Ow!"_

"See?"

Enid rubbed at her breast. "Of all the fucking places you could pinch, you give me a purple nurple?"

"You asked for it. Your headlights are on."

Enid looked down at her pokers. She'd changed to more practical nightwear, and had taken off her bra for comfort's sake. "So they are," she said. She glared at him, though his tiny, little smile was infectious. He was lucky he was too pretty to stay mad at. Especially now that he was shaving on a more regular basis with all the excess rainwater they'd been catching lately.

"If I were to say we should be together, what would happen?"

"Then we'd be together."

Enid studied his face, but found it too soothing and sincere to accuse him of not telling her the truth. "So, if I jumped onto you right now, and then ripped all your clothes off —"

"I'd put what I could back on, because there's a four-year old close by who really doesn't need to know how he was made in the first place."

Goddamn it. There was one, wasn't there? "Okay, yeah," she said. "You're right."

Despite that, Enid was determined not to end this night without some substantial development. Something that could let her know, beyond any and all doubt, that they had a future together. She thought the best chances for it to properly happen was for her to confess what her most real of sentiments was. He'd probably been suspecting as much already, but she needed to put it to word.

"Glenn, look at me." He did with little hesitation. A lot less hesitation than she herself was having, actually. Finally, she just blurted out, "Glenn, I love you."

There was a beat there she used to gauge some sort of reaction — any reaction — but that damned poker face of his was back in full effect. She continued immediately, hoping no pause had been noticeable.

"I have for a while, and I know you know it. I just had to tell you to your face. Now, whether you feel the same way, or not, makes no difference to me. It doesn't change how I feel about you, or how much I wanted you to hear it. That, and how I'd pretty much do fucking anything for you. Anything. Even if it means letting you go, for your sake. But, if you'd let me, I would happily spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

Glenn nodded. The slowest, most concentrated, and suddenly glossy-eyed nod she'd ever seen anyone do. It promptly made her own eyes wet, and she felt no shame in it. She refused to see him cry alone anymore.

Enid took a sigh to steady herself. "I probably will never know for sure if you've decided to, for lack of a better word, move on from Maggie, or not. I can't read your thoughts, and I can never really, truly know for sure if you'd just be telling me what I wanted to hear. I will tell you this, though. Glenn, you shouldn't feel obligated to just, like, give yourself to somebody else if you can't love them back all the way. I'd never force you to, and I wouldn't want you to. And I won't allow you to force yourself to, either. If you can't give yourself to me fully, then we'll stop this here, because I'll know it's . . . because of Maggie. I'd understand, and I wouldn't hold it against you."

Glenn considered her somberly. Enid waited with no complaint. Finally, he opened with, "Can I ask you something this time?"

"Of course," she said quickly.

"How do I know that _you're_ not just telling _me_ what I want to hear?"

That was something she wasn't anticipating. A small amount of shame then tugged at her, because she'd realized that, for an instant, her thought process towards him was something along the lines of uncomprehending. To that, she made an oath to herself to never again forget that his feelings were just as equal to her own. If not, more so; to her, and her alone. "I promise you that I'm not," she said. "I care about you too much to do that."

His expression drooped. This gloom hurt her more than it probably should have, but it did. His pain was her pain. "Another question," he said. At her nod, he continued. "I wanted to know if you had an answer for me now. For what I asked you from the other night at that factory. How long would you wait after I died?" Glenn was caught a bit off-guard. He clearly wasn't expecting her to repeat that question along with him.

"I do, actually," Enid said. "Was driving me crazy since then, but I do." She then took a few moments to adjust her seating while staring out the window into the darkness. When she turned back to face him, she found him expecting. Almost eagerly so. He must've been as troubled waiting for her response as she had been trying to think of one. "My answer is a huge, resounding, 'Not going to happen.' "

"What exactly does that mean?" Skeptical, but interested, Glenn leaned back into his own seating. His face was half-covered in moonlight and shadow. The picturesque sight distracted her momentarily, but she snapped out of it in time to keep their rhythm.

"It's a double answer," she said. "First of all, you wouldn't have to worry about it in the first place. I'd never let anything happen to you."

"I should be saying that to you."

"No, fuck that. I'm telling you what I feel. Second of all, I wouldn't. I couldn't. Believe me, or not, but it's the most honest feeling I've ever come to realize. I've stuck by you for a long time, Glenn. I don't even know if I could live so well without you anymore. Listen, if you and me got together, I'd never move on even after you died. End of story. Glenn, you're all I need."

Oh, shit. Narrowed eyes. Instantly. Did he think she were lying? Enid still had trouble deciphering that look, and still didn't know what to expect. His suddenly serious demeanor actually lasted for a while. She lost count at thirty seconds, as an overriding anxiety grew at his coming reaction.

"Enid —" Hesitation flashed in his still-glossy eyes as he cut himself off. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and continued. "I'm going to do something right now," he whispered. "Something I thought I would never do."

Enid nodded to that. Probably with a bit too much energy.

"If at any moment you want me to stop, just say the word, and I will."

If he was about to do anything even remotely close to what she was thinking, that offer was ancient of him, yet endearing. Enid nodded again. "Fine," she spat. "But that goes for you, too."

"Oh?"

"You start mama's engine, you've got to ride her home." Enid was trying her best to sound not only confident, but, well, sexy? Which was strange, because that second one hadn't really needed to come into play before until now. How did women who'd grown up from before just, like, do it? Like they did in the magazines and comics? Annoyingly, it wasn't working. She could feel it in every muscle on her face. She was nervous as shit. Probably even a little scared. She wasn't entirely sure why.

Glenn flashed her a sneer that was ridden with a provocative, almost alarming level of sin she'd thought only possible in her most self-centered fantasies. "What the hell am I getting myself into?" he asked knowingly. His voice was now velvet; perfection. Deepened, rugged, and taut with desire. Enid would've thrown him to the floor and begun a defilement most vulgar at that very moment, but she needed to savor this.

"Out of my dreams, and into my arms?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. Cheesy as fuck, but it was the most sincere thought swimming in her head at the moment. Well, the most sincere of the clean ones. And why was she so goddamned edgy? She'd gotten what she'd wanted before with little to no effort. Well, it's Glenn, she told herself. You actually give a shit about him, and what he thinks of you.

Glenn tilted his head at her. The faintest hint of an amused smirk was tugging at his otherwise stony kept features. She would never understand how he could stay so blasé in all but the most life-threatening of situations. She'd do anything at this point to find out if it were still at all possible to utterly shatter that stoicism of his in bed. Just like how she remembered him back in Alexandria. Before his life changed forever, that is.

Enid, herself, was breathing hard. Her panties were soaking through. It was true that they shouldn't, and wouldn't, go too far on this night, but this would definitely fuel her fantasies for later in private. "So what was that thing you said you'd never do?" she asked. "You still going to do it?"

Glenn moved swiftly, but not enough to startle or commit. He leaned forward and kissed her with a hand in her hair. Enid couldn't believe this at first, and had nearly gone petrified. He was gentle. Almost curious. The softest of suctions was tugging at the pout of her lips; an inquiry to how she was liking this. Enid answered in the only way she knew how to in such a situation. It was sudden enough to feel him gasping into her mouth. She had seized the lead and was kissing him back harder. Her tongue ran unbridled, tasting all within reach. Traces of their spearmint toothpaste only accentuated his flavor. Her mind fogged over, wondering what other flavors the rest of his body had to offer.

Then out of nowhere, Enid, herself, slowed them down to a halt. This surprised Glenn, who gave her his full attention. There was a light switch nearby she remembered from earlier, and she flicked it on. A waste of RV power, really, but it wasn't too demanding of a lamp. Just enough to see each other's faces. Among other things. She'd managed to pull his shirt off during their tussle, after all.

Glenn had never been much of a hairy man. Be it because of his ancestry or not, it was the opposite of most boys she had known. Before speaking, Enid enjoyed a few moments to herself to admire and caress his figure. Not once did Glenn stop her, which she was thankful for. Who knew how long it would be before they could do anything like this again? She needed to take her time. To her pleasure, he felt as she'd always imagined him to. Hardened by battle and defined by their travels, yet smooth to the touch with only the barest hints of the coarseness that was the ordeals it had taken for his body to have become so. A frown then crossed her face when she rediscovered that scar towards the side of his abdomen. She traced a thumb across it apologetically. That had been the very first time that she feared she might have lost him.

"Answer me this one last thing," Enid finally said.

"Ask it."

"Do you really want this?"

Glenn nodded slowly, but solemnly.

"Do you really want . . . me?"

"I do." His tone was level and concentrated. Answer, without pause. The sincerity in his eyes as he searched hers was all she needed to believe. Yet, further still, he would make this night unforgettable. He whispered everything clearly, all as he stroked the loosened hair from her face. "Enid, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than wherever you are. As long as you're with me, I feel complete."

Enid drew a sharp breath. Suddenly, she pulled him back down with the obscenest of fervor. He repaid her in kind; as ravenous as she through intensities which rendered their surroundings invalid. This was a new side of Glenn that Enid had only ever dreamed of. It burned her with impulse. She surrendered all logic. In moments, she had him below her and straddled. She began to unbuckle him sloppily, refusing to part their lips until that moment when his hardness became paramount to all other senses. But Glenn ended this charge, and she immediately knew why. Defeated, but unremitting, Enid pressed down into him and nipped at the flesh of his collarbone, throat, and chin. She was grabbing and groping as she did so, triumphantly slipping a hand in to fondle his unexpectedly hefty girth flesh to flesh. She was hooked. His mind had to be changed. Now. It just had to.

"Fuck them," Enid growled. She was shivering with lust. She squeezed him hard in the palm of her hand, inciting the moan that she was so desperately craving to hear. "Just, fuck 'em all. I need you."

Glenn was shivering himself. He caressed her rear with the hand he'd slid through her own jeans. Giving in to her lecherous curiosity, Enid pulled her own hand back and slurped up his pre-fluids from her fingers before returning it. She had always despised the taste of semen, and had always avoided having to do so. Yet, something about Glenn's was addicting and irresistible, and she couldn't control herself from needing far more. What they had between them was tapping into primal, unknown desires.

"You really don't know how much I need you, too," he whispered into her ear between breaths. She could feel his heart racing against her own. It was agony to be so denied. "Enid, it's been a long time since I've felt like this. Believe me, I want it. I want you. But now's not the time."

Enid punched the sofa, swearing aloud without care. If the people above them had noticed at all, they didn't make it known. "Okay, fine," Enid said before smashing their lips together for just a second, releasing with a small pop. "We'll do it your way." Another quick, sloppy kiss. "For now."

She then moved to make out with him further, but Glenn took the lead, stood, and went on the reckless offensive. Enid was suspended for God knows how long, moaning and whimpering into his mouth as her legs wrapped ever tighter around him. Glenn pushed her into the wall opposite, chilling the part of her body against the cold glass of the kitchen window. It was an ecstatically confusing combination of conflicting sensations, intensifying her ache for the girth she felt throbbing behind his denim. Before she knew it, he had sat down and spun her into his lap. Her back was against his chest now, but their tongues rarely parted. Enid proceeded to grind desperately into his crotch, but he stopped her long enough to reveal his purpose.

He unbuttoned her jeans and snaked a hand down. Enid stopped their kiss to stare into his lidded eyes, and watched his reactions to her own tensing expressions. Most of her previous lovers always went straight for rampant and awkward fingering, as was expected of young boys since time immemorial. Glenn, however, was instead rubbing her out as familiarly as she herself would do so. Just enough pressure to begin with, increasing when and where needed until the audacious sloshing was really all that could be heard within the cabin of the RV. Her toes curled and thighs tightened the first time and second. The third was the last she needed for the night to relieve those repressed frustrations that had grown too much for her own hands to satisfy. Glenn kissed her fiercely with each climax; swallowing her moans for himself to deny it from the ears of the others. Afterwards, she calmed quietly in his embrace. A tiny smile on her face simply refused to fade.

Glenn leaned over towards the counter, tore open a packaging of napkins, and then used them to soak up the mess he'd coaxed out of her. Before he could finish, Enid's hand moved on instinct and gathered a lapping to offer it to Glenn. Her smile grew as he accepted the offering with no hesitancy. Goosebumps ran down her body at the sensation of his slow, loving tongue as she maneuvered her fingers in his mouth. His gaze at her own was so mesmerizing, she almost refused to stop. Glenn did for the both of them, however, and set her hand down before zipping and buttoning her back up. He then planted chaste kisses on the side of her face and neck as he waited for her to return to reality. Once she did, Enid realized that his hardness had barely subsided, to which she immediately felt both guilty and rabid. Though, once she knelt to advertise her intent with him, Glenn took a soft hold of her wrists, smiled at her frown, and then said it was time to sleep.

Enid didn't know how to respond other than gently helping him to his feet, and then into her arms. She stood there, hugging him intimately and silently; cherishing his proximity and scent for at least as long as he'd taken to finish her. It took time, but as soon as Glenn settled, he put his shirt back on, threw the used napkins in the bin, turned off the RV lamp, and then led her to the ladder outside that would take them to their bedrolls.

Minus Corporal Burch, who'd been locked alone within the smallest RV for the safety of everyone, the rooftops of their vehicles were what was decided as the sleeping areas. It was far from the campfire — which had to be doused, anyway — but it was better than waking up and having a circle of walkers becoming one's final memory in life. Cardboard was lain beneath each bedroll to minimize any heat the roofs' metal would conduct from the next morning's sun. They'd learned it to be wise from the morning before.

Glenn and Enid turned in side by side for the first time in days, and traded a final kiss that was hidden from the others. They enjoyed the sight of each other's faces until Enid completely knocked out, contented. Not long after, she was awakened for her shift of guard duty. Like the responsible co-leader she always strove to be, Enid dressed for the cold and remained vigilant in her shift. When her duty was completed, she switched with the next guard and then returned to her own bedroll. Though, it was hopefully to remain empty that night. There was Glenn still right beside it, and her first thought was, "Try one last time." Nostalgia struck her immediately, recalling an event just like this, when she had returned from her watch back in Louisiana to find Glenn still awake. Awake, and destined to refuse her.

This time, however, he remained fast asleep. All snuggled up, head to the side. His chest rose and fell in no hurried manner, summoned forth by a sleepless week of vigilance against death. Fortunately for him, he had no shift for the night, so he could continue to rest unabated. Enid approached with her steps as light as she could make them before sitting down and frowning at his face masked in shadow. It was moments like these which she wished could last for a controllable infinity. No sadness or anger could cross his face as he slept. He was at his most beautiful. What she wouldn't do for a camera right now.

Her jacket and scarf were folded to be placed atop his amidst their pile of belongings adjacent. The boots came off quietly, and then were set beside his own. Carefully, she crawled into his sleeping bag. She was meticulous and tender in her repositioning of his body to embrace him from behind; anxious and wary for even the slightest sign of resistance. But none ever came. Her breathing remained as calm as her will would allow, but it wasn't that effective, to be honest. There was simply no way he couldn't feel her heart racing against his back. Hesitation ruled her penultimate movement of snaking her arm over his side to find his hand. Once found, her hand froze and her breath held. Would he wake and reject her? Would he make some joke to hint that her presence was unwanted? He had just schlicked her out three times in a row. They had to have been past such trivialities by now. And then he moved. He was awake.

His thumb rubbed her hand gently, ensuring that all was okay, but even then, her heart refused to settle. She heard him chuckle. Low and throaty. Her hand was then guided until she felt lips press fondly against them in no uncertain fashion. For five, soothing seconds that she'd unashamedly counted, Enid savored this delicate sensation. The kiss then released with the most minuscule, yet resounding, pop; sending shudders of expectancy which sped straight to her chest, gut, and even crotch. But Enid held fast — curtailing these urges — all for the sake of this man in her arms.

Glenn nestled more into her. Enid nuzzled him further. The chaste hand-play continued for some time thereafter, until slumber divorced both from reality interim; when dreams seized the helm to humor fancies and whim. The next hours till daybreak saw the pair switch their hold back and forth with no conscious decree whatsoever. They kept clothed and unsullied throughout this accord, but in the end, Enid wasn't disappointed. Instead, she was gratified. She felt less alone than she ever remembered being in her life. And the glorious boner she woke up feeling against her the next morning birthed an unheard-of enthusiasm for what each new day would bring.

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